


Young Avengers

by Wallflower671



Category: Avengers, Harry Potter - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallflower671/pseuds/Wallflower671
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Lily did the smart thing and left Harry in Bruce's care while the war against Voldemort raged on. Harry ends up staying in Bruce's(and the rest of the Avengers) care for sixteen years. When Harry returns to the wizarding world he brings along a few friends and abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my newest story Young Avengers from an old account of mine. I have six chapters written and I hope that you peoples enjoy it. This is totally AU and I have not read a comic book in my life. I've only seen the movies and read HP books. So, uh, yeah. I do not own Marvel, I am not Stan Lee or J.K. Rowling. This is unbeta'd.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story has not be copied and can be found at my fanfiction profile: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2507834/StackofStories

Bruce lived by a routine. He got up at exactly 6:50 am in the morning. He rubbed his face once and then rolled out of bed. Odds were he had slept with his glasses on, so, that eliminated the need to stretch and frantically search for his spectacles.

He yawned once and proceeded to make his bed with military precision. That took three minutes at his fastest or six minutes at his slowest. After that was done, he stumbled into his bathroom. Of course a good piss was in order, and then, in no particular order did he brush his teeth and take a quick shower.

Bruce dressed in sweatpants and his college sweatshirt padding to the kitchen. His gourmet breakfast was Cheerios and skim milk. He ate in silence, his bites and chews repetitive. Breakfast wasn't long — really. By the time he finished it was 7:20.

He tried his aim with throwing his bowl and spoon in the sink. His aim was shitty. He waited for the clang against the metal rim only to be distracted by the cheery chime that sounded through his apartment.

That was odd. Bruce glanced at the clock, 7:25 am. The newspaper wasn't here until eight, and the mail usually didn't come till three in the afternoon, packages even later. The cheery chime reverberated through his apartment again. He was forced to diverge from his usual schedule, putting his yoga and breathing techniques behind by at least three minutes.

He trekked down the one hallway going straight until he reached his front door. He unlocked the numerous locks, hoping to whatever Gods out there that it wasn't someone or something that would set him off. The other guy had been wonderfully dormant for the last few years, and he wanted it to stay that way.

He cracked open the door just wide enough to see whomever rung his doorbell. Great, he blew through his nose, his eyes darting from left to right. There was no one at his front door. Figures, it was probably those little brats from 2-A. He closed his door, preparing to get back on schedule when the doorbell rang again.

This time he opened his door all the way, only to see his expanded porch, the dismal rain that drizzled outside, a couple of plants he personally planted and a writhing grey bundle on his welcome mat. All was normal… wait, what? A writhing bundle? Against his better judgment, Bruce slid to his hunches and carefully picked it up.

His fingers darted over the soft material to find an opening. The bundle moved with his fingers until it gave way; a baby and a letter. A baby! His head snapped up and he stepped out of his apartment. Who in their right mind would leave a baby alone while it was raining, and on his front porch no less.

He saw no one. Not a soul in sight. His brown stare landed back on the sleeping rosy-cheeked baby. Bruce wasn't so heartless to set the baby back down; he had to bring it in no matter how he felt. He reluctantly backtracked into apartment, his morning schedule forgotten.

He closed the apartment door, once again locking all the locks. Bruce was unaware of two cloaked figures that stood outside his apartment complex.

...

A woman with beautiful red hair and even prettier green eyes clutched the man that stood beside her, her tears mixing with the rain.

"James," she cried. "Do you think we did the right thing?"

"Lils," he said his voice thick. "Yes. He'll be safe away from You-Know-Who and his minions. We'll get our little boy back as soon as this whole thing dies down."

"Promise me, James!" Lily crushed him closer, looking at him with a crazed glint in her eyes only a mother could produce.

James nodded, carding his fingers through his wife's flaming locks. He sent a longing stare toward Apartment 3-B. He gathered his magic. "I promise, Lils." There was a sharp crack and then they disappeared into thin air.

...

Bruce reread the letter once more, hoping that somehow the letter would morph into something happier, more plausible, anything to shake the reality that was now spread in front of him. Lily and Remus, two of his closest friends were locked in war that ravaged their country.

Lily counted on him to take care of her only child, Harry James Potter. Bruce hissed. He wasn't ready for this type of responsibility; really, with the Gamma Ray Research going on, and the other guy always lurking below, he couldn't afford to waste any time on a child that constantly needed his attention.

What was he supposed to do? It wouldn't be right to give the child to a temporary foster home or even send the baby back. That would be cruel, and he remembered the radiant girl and shy boy from his childhood; the only ones that noticed the abuse and tried to help him the best they could. They'd do anything for Bruce, and he'd do the same for them.

He set the letter down. He would keep the baby, despite his better judgment. The letter outlined a couple of months to a year. Bruce could do that. He glanced at the child. "I hope I'm not making a mistake," he murmured.

...

James and Lily crouched on other side of the couch, Sirius near the front door. They were all waiting for an attack. A secret spy in the Dark Lord's inner circle tipped them off that there were to be two attacks at the Longbottom and Potter house with raids in the muggle communities to draw the Aurors' attention toward them.

Their spy couldn't reveal exactly who was attacking what house since the information was known to only the Dark Lord and the trusted Death Eaters that would be sent to the houses.

The door was suddenly blown from the hinges. A familiar high-pitched shriek-like giggle pierced the air. "Hello Siri!" Bellatrix Lestrange cackled madly.

James held his wand tight. He knew that Sirius could stand his ground against his mad cousin, but that didn't lessen the urge to go help him. Only Lily's pleading stare kept him in place. They needed the element of surprise against whatever reinforcements the mad witch brought.

"Alecto! Amycus! Search for the brat, I'll handle my cousin!" Bellatrix ordered loudly. James had no doubt that as she was commanding she was already locked in a fierce dual with Sirius.

"They're coming," Lily whispered. She peeked from behind the couch, her wand out and pointed. James could see her already muttering charms with little flicks here and there. Those witless twins would be in for a nasty surprise when they stepped into the living room.

James similarly had his wand out. His plan was to disarm them quickly and then bind them. A few seconds passed, the two lumbered into the room, their wands drawn. Lily's charms worked instantaneously. "I CAN'T SEE!" cried Alecto, the stocky blonde one. She waved her wand around.

Her brother was in no better condition. He was flapping around the living room, yelling "Fire!" trying to put himself out despite him being perfectly fine. It was pathetically easy how James disarmed them and then binded them.

James grinned momentarily. "Moldyshorts must let anyone in his army these days."

Lily mirrored his grin and then became grim again. "Sirius!" she said. James became somber once more. He swept passed their captives, skidding into the main hallway where Sirius and Bellatrix were located, their hallway looked more like a battle field.

Cracks and holes littered the walls, dark mark burns splattered the wooden floors. Bellatrix had a numerous amounts of cuts on her, and her clothes, Sirius her reflecting image. The cousins were screaming obscenities at each other, too busy to notice James and Lily.

James badly wanted to use that as an advantage, but he knew that Sirius would be against it. This was a battle between family, James would respect that, but if Sirius faltered even a second he was coming in with or without his consent.

"Auntie should have killed you as soon as you were born!" Bellatrix spat. A purple stream of light shot from her wand and Sirius deflected it, firing one of his own.

"You betrayed your family for some muggle-lovin shi—!" Bellatrix screamed. She wrenched up her right sleeve where the Dark Mark was located, darker than James had ever thought was possible. It wrangled on Bellatrix's pallid skin, and she screamed again sounding like a wounded animal.

James saw fear and desperation cross her features. She shot another spell at Sirius with blinding accuracy, only to be deflected, and then she apparated. Just like that. It dawned on James seconds later the twins were screaming and screeching.

He ran back into the living room to see the twins trembling so badly James thought they were suffering from a seizure attack. "Please!" Amycus shouted as soon as he laid eyes on James. "The Dark Lord is dead! He p-put us under the Imperious Curse, we had no idea what we were doing!" he stuttered.

Alecto nodded furiously. "The Dark Lord is dead! We're free from his dastardly affects!" James rolled his eyes and cast a Silencio charm on the twins; that was a load of centaur shit. He hated the twins as Death Eaters, but he hated them even more as traitors and cowards. At least have some respect for yourself and commit to where your allegiance laid.

Lily chose the perfect time to place a hand on his shoulder. Startled, James looked at her only to see her lips curve up into a happy smile. "He's dead James! We can bring back Harry!"

James nodded stiffly, pasting on a faux smile. That was supposed to be their plan. As soon as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead or at least in Azakaban on Kiss Row, they would bring Harry back, becoming a family again. However, James had a sickening intuition it wouldn't turn out like that.

James was right. He sat rigidly in the front pew beside a tearful Lily and a stoic Sirius. Dumbledore stood in the front with Fawkes by his side, trilling a sad tune. Alice and Frank Longbottom died in the attack. James glanced at the pew to his left where Augusta was seated with a sleepy baby boy swathed in black robes, his light hair swept down to hide the lightning bolt scar.

Neville. The-Boy-Who-Lived. Poor babe, James thought sadly. In one night his parents were cruelly ripped away from him all because of a prophecy and a mad guy hell-bent on living forever. In retrospect, it could have been his son. James and Lily could've been the ones dead, leaving Harry as an orphan.

James winced. He felt terrible for Neville and Augusta, but at the same time he felt relief. Relief that it wasn't him and Lily. He still had time to spend with his son. He clutched Lily's hands tightly within his own, facing forward, he was thankful that somebody was watching over him and his family.

Two mournful hours later, Frank and Alice were finally laid to their rest in the Longbottom family plot. Their shared tombstone had a few choice words that described them, and then the Order of Phoenix symbol. A number of people wanted to erect a monument for Alice and Frank, but Augusta waved them off.

"Alice and Frank were two of many people that died in the war. They only did the right thing. Alice and Frank were people that wanted no special treatment for dying in the line of duty for fighting and protecting what they believed in," she told them all, still clutching an oblivious Neville.

Her words quelled the monument argument. After that, people gathered in a long train, everyone had one flower (a chrysanthemum, carnation, or baby's breath) and began putting them on raised ledger saying their goodbyes. Lily and James were the last to place their flowers; both of them profusely thanked Frank and Lily for their sacrifice promising to treat Neville like their own.

They walked off, preparing to portkey to the U.S. when Dumbledore appeared. He was dressed in his usual eccentric way, a shimmery set of black robes with shooting stars that raced across the fabric. His usual bright blue-eyes were dim with a hint of red around the rim. "Dumbledore!" James greeted.

"My boy," Dumbledore said with his usual cheery edge although it sounded fake to James' ears. The oldest Potter moved to ask Dumbledore what was wrong, but the older wizard held up a hand. "Let me be frank, my boy. I believe that Voldemort is still at large. He's out there, biding his time until he can find a host."

"Oh," James drew back. That wasn't going to change any of their plans. They were going to get Harry back one way or another today. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone now. "We'll be ready when he decides to rise again."

He ushered Lily passed Dumbledore, set on continuing on when he spoke again. "He'll want both Neville and Harry. Harry will not be safe if you bring him back."

James whirled around, blazing. "Why?" he questioned. "The prophecy said You-Know-Who would mark his equal, and that the one born as the seventh month dies, which is Neville; he was born just a second before August 1st. You-Know-Who wants him! Not our son!" he said, frantic. He promised Lils and himself that he would get back his son when this whole situation washed over, and it was over.

Dumbledore was a mighty obstacle, but he'd tear him down if it meant he would have his baby boy back in his arms. Dumbledore blew through his crooked nose, stroking his white beard. "I'm afraid my boy, that wasn't the only prophecy pertaining to Voldemort."

"Another prophecy!" James gritted his teeth.

"Yes. Sybil graciously allowed me the opportunity to look through some of her families' journals. The entries I found were astonishing, but one in particular struck me.

"It read: Followed in His Golden One's footsteps; he born to the House of Snakes and him born to the artisans of earthenware; strung together by Giantess' son, The Serpent, earthborn, craftiness coming behind thee," he finished. "The date it was written was the exact day Voldemort was born. Pythia, the writer of the prophecy, died a day later."

"Stop mincing words," Lily spoke up. "Tell us what you need too."

Dumbledore nodded. "I believe there is someone bigger out there that's playing with both Voldemort and your son."

James and Lily glanced at each other for a moment, their eyes speaking volumes. Lily moved closer to James, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. "Promise me, we'll get our baby boy back. Promise me!"

James nodded. "I promise."

...

Bruce waited and waited for a phonecall, a letter, an email, heck, a message on his pager would do it. Sadly, from December 1991 to November 5th 1992 there was nothing. Bruce was left alone with a small squishy living organism with a mop of wild, red hair and the prettiest emerald eyes he had ever seen.

The morning of November 6th a tawny owl tapped his bedroom window. The tawny owl set the envelope on his night desk and then flew off. Bruce opened the letter recognizing Lily's handwriting, it was shaky at best with tear drops smudging the ink.

Lily written that the war had taken a whole new level, people were now specifically targeting Lily and her husband. It was best for Harry to stay in the United States. Lily assured him that he'd have to pay for nothing regarding Harry, there was trust fund account she and her husband had set up for Harry until he was a legal adult and ready to access their main accounts.

She promised that she and her husband would constantly send letters to both Harry and him. She also said she would correspond with Bruce and Harry through owl. In fact, tomorrow evening, she told him he would receive a package with his very own owl and all of Harry's necessary papers to enroll him in school, go the hospital, etc.

Bruce was curious about the country where the war was taking place, but decided not to question it. He accepted what Lily told him. Harry would become his responsibility until Lily and her husband could take him back safely. He sincerely prayed that it was soon.

He had seen the effects of absent parents in a child's life and the effects weren't pretty. Bruce just hoped he was ground enough to root Harry and prevent him from becoming that sort of person. He placed the letter on his night stand, preparing to go to sleep.

But like all things in life, something came up. That something was Harry. He awoke with a yawn, rolling over to meet Bruce's tired gaze. He held up his arms in a silent gesture to be picked up. He spit up happy bubbles when Bruce complied with his request.

Bruce smiled. "It looks like it's just you and me, bud."

Harry merely laughed, giving him a nearly toothless smile. He hauled Bruce's thumb in his mouth without a care in the world. Bfahrhm!" Harry gurgled around Bruce's thumb.

The man smile grew wider, cooing. "No talking with your mouth full, buddy. I understand though. We'll be fine, we'll get through this."

He held Harry close to him, the big guy is inside oddly tamed by Harry's presence. He'd raise Harry until his role was no longer needed. He'd love him like the son he would never have. Harry gurgled again, wriggling around. He blinked up at Bruce with love and adoration.

Yes, Harry made it solid.

He carefully got up from his bed and headed into the kitchen. Harry was the schedule he lived by now. "Let's go eat. I bet you're hungry."


	2. Chance

Nearly five years had passed since Bruce had diverted from his morning schedule to find young Harry Potter on his front porch, much had changed since then. For starters, Bruce no longer lived in a tiny apartment just outside Penn State. He had moved into the Avengers Mansion in Malibu, California.

Three years ago, Loki had come and tried to take over the world. He and his forces were defeated rather promptly by Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and the Big Guy. Tony Stark had given them all rooms in his mansion with invitations to come and live there. He and Steve Rogers were the only ones to take a permanent residence with Tony, which suited Bruce just fine. Steve Rogers was like Grandma's apple pie and golden retriever puppies, in other words, he wouldn't corrupt Harry in any way.

Ever since Harry had become his quasi son Bruce was what you could call an overprotective dad. He carted Harry with him everywhere: during his lectures, in the lab, impromptu Avengers meetings, despite, Nick Fury's disapproval, everywhere. But, there was always a but to these things; looking after Harry was even more troublesome then saving New York City from Victor Van Doom.

He swore the minute Harry started to walk, Hell was raised. Harry was found playing with Tony's highly dangerous weapons, dangling about with Clint when he decided to perch and nest in extremely high places, and hanging out in the Avengers' special room. Bruce readily preferred all that to the way Harry disappeared sometimes. He'd be in the middle of mastering the art of dressing Harry when he disappeared into thin air!

Whenever Bruce found Harry, the little boy always gave him an enchanted smile like all was well, half-dressed, and then he giggled. All the while Bruce struggled to keep his heart in his chest and not die from stress.

In Lily's weekly letters she assured Bruce of these happenings, writing that this was normal for Harry and other children his age. Bruce was skeptical of that, but what could he say? He had never raised a child in his life so, really, he couldn't raise an argument against her claims.

So, as he said, he had been raising Harry for nearly five years, in those five years a lot had changed. Aside from the Avengers side job, Bruce Banner was a respected Professor at Pepperdine University. He taught from 8-4 while Harry stayed in the University's daycare.

Bruce lived by that lifestyle until Amadeus Cho, a student of his, burst into his classroom during a lecture. He swept black hair from his face, breathing hard. "Dr. Banner! Harry— classroom — mess!" he panted.

Bruce sent one glance to his stunned students then ran like no tomorrow to the daycare, a "Test next class!" an echo behind him. He hurried past many bustling people, pushing and shoving whilst struggling to keep his irrational anger and nervousness under control. Finally, he made it to the daycare where small toddlers were being led out by a teacher's assistant. Not one of them had Harry's famous red hair.

Then— Bruce peered into the disheveled classroom where childish drawings that hung on the walls were askew, tiny tables were turned over, and Harry sat in the middle of it all. His teacher sat next to him with an arm around his thin shoulders. "Mrs. Finkle?" he said tentatively, stepping into the destroyed classroom. "What happened?"

She stared up at him, clearly shocked out of her mind. Bruce quickly gave her once-over, thankfully discovering no bite marks or cuts. The only distinction he saw was her hair. He swore she had stringy dark brown hair earlier this today, now, it was a cotton blue and excessively springy.

Mrs. Finkle gained her composure and got to her feet. She carefully threaded through broken toys and empty glue bottles to come to Bruce's side. She sent a concern-filled look over to Harry before pulling Bruce to a secluded corner by the jacket. She was a small woman, but she pinned him with an intimidating glare that rivaled the Black Widow on a good day.

"Harry? What happened!" he said only to be silenced by Mrs. Finkle's raised hand.

"Are you a conservative man, Mr. Banner? One who believes Mutants deserve to be eradicated and destroyed because they aren't normal. Would you see them killed or forced to conform?" she asked rapidly with fire in her eyes, ignoring his question. Bruce noticed as she did this her irises flipped through the colors of the rainbow faster than Harry inhaled Skittles. A small mutation: Metamorphosis.

"Well, are you?" she prompted him to answer.

"No, I am not," Bruce answered. Mrs. Finkle stared him over and then looked back at Harry. She then nodded at him as if he accepted him and his answer.

"Good, cause if you answered otherwise," she chuckled like it was some hilariously funny joke. She then sobered up, staring at him with the same serious expression. "It is good that we found Harry early. He can be sent to school with people just like him; Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is always accepting new recruits. Why I–"

"No!" Bruce shot down the idea. "My son isn't going to the other-side of the country. If you're worried about his schooling I will send him to the Avengers Academy."

Mrs. Finkle stepped back, disdain written all over her features. "Those mutants," she spat, "will turn him into a machine. As soon as he's old enough he'll either be shipped off to S.H.I.E.L.D. or put on a team and sent off to fight whether he wants too or not. Professor Xavier is a pacifist. Harry will only be taught to hone his gifts and use them as he desires."

Bruce too stepped back while Mrs. Finkle made an impressive argument, he couldn't agree with her. Charles Xavier was a marvelous man with great ideals and a loving personality, but he was too kind. His school would teach Harry morals and love, all the things Bruce could ever want, and that would be his greatest weakness. The newspaper and media showed Harry with Tony Stark and Steve occasionally, their enemies knew Harry was connected to them in some way.

God forbid, Harry was ever in a situation where Bruce or any others weren't there in the face of danger. He needed to know that Harry could protect himself. Yes, at Charles' school he'd have acceptance for who he was, but Harry had to have more than acceptance. Bruce bowed his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Finkle. You have been a great help. I'll be taking Harry now." He turned on heel where Harry still sat on his hunches, hiding his face with his arms.

"Save your breath, Mr. Banner. Avengers Academy is highly selective, you might as well send him to Charles' school!" she said.

Bruce shook his head. "Thank you," he said, meaning his words. He gathered Harry up his arms for once the mischievous smile that so often appeared on his face gone without a trace.

"Hi, daddy," Harry said, an air of melancholy surrounded him. The urge to rock Harry and pet his hair like he did when he was sick was strong within him, but he refrained. Instead, he shifted Harry closer to his shoulder where his small head laid.

"We're going home now, Harry. You and I have a lot to talk about."

The bus ride home was slow and torturous. Harry, normally such a boisterous child, asking him at least twenty questions in a span of minute was silent. Too silent. He just kept quiet, his tiny arms tightening Bruce's neck periodically.

At the Avengers Mansion, Pepper was there waiting at door with plate of finger foods for Harry. Bruce stopped in the doorway and just stared at Pepper as she stared right back. While it was true that Bruce was the only person Harry identified with as a parent, Pepper was the 'mother' so to speak in Harry's life. Bruce and Pepper spoke through their eyes until Pepper nodded. She lowered the plate. "Find me after you've laid him down for a nap," she said and then walked away.

Bruce grunted and continued on his way until he arrived at his rooms, which translated into a huge apartment. He went straight until he was in the main bedroom and gently pried Harry from his neck. He sat him on his lap, not quite sure how to start.

Luckily, Harry did it for him. He stared at Bruce with wide, guileless green eyes. "Am I a freak? Does Daddy not like me no more?"

Bruce reeled, shaking his head. "No! Harry, what would make you say that? I love you very, very much."

Harry sent him a watery smile and played with his hands. "I got mad today because Davis said that I was a freak, and Daddy not love me anymore cuz I make weird things happen sometimeses." Harry frowned, knitting his eyes together. "I don't mean too, Daddy! I promise they happens and I can't stop! And! And! I'm sorry!"

"Harry, no, there's nothing to be sorry for," Bruce said. "You aren't a freak." He pulled Harry closer, smiling down at him.

"I'm not?" Harry blinked at him in surprise. Bruce nodded.

"No, you aren't. In fact, you're special like Daddy and many others. In fact," Bruce went on a tangent, trying hard not to coo and talk to Harry like he was two, "it's the reason why you'll be going to a special school. People who are like you and me will be there, and you'll learn how to use your powers. Would you like that?"

"Mmm!" Harry nodded, his inner happiness and zeal zapping back. He launched himself at Bruce, laughing. "I love daddy," he muffled against Bruce's chest.

"I love you too."

...

A small Elf owl flew into the Potter household, setting an envelope on the wooden table. It nipped James on the index finger affectionately before grabbing a piece of bacon and then taking off. James set the Daily Prophet down more interested in Bruce's newest letter than Skeeter's dribble.

"Lily! Come 'ere!" James called into the next room. He smiled when his wife came in moments later, their daughter on her hip. Lily sat Jasmine down in her high chair while Lily took a seat next James an excited smile on her red lips.

"Well?! What are you waiting for, open it James!" Lily pushed, practically on James' seat. James laughed at his wife's excitement. He tore open the envelope and let the contents fall to the table. He placed the letter in between him and Lily, and placed Harry's newest picture right at the end.

Lily and James soaked the information Bruce provided on their firstborn, laughing and making small comments at Harry's (mostly mis)adventures. Eventually, the letter drastically changed tone. Bruce didn't openly reveal what the problem was, but he had said that Harry was special and because of his specialness he was being sent to a rather exclusive school for people like him.

The Potters and every wizard, squib, and witch in the magical society were bound by a Statue of Secrecy unless they got married to a Muggle and had a child with said Muggle. They couldn't just say that Harry was a wizard; he didn't need to be sent to any special school! Surely, they wouldn't understand him until he turned eleven and was ready for proper wizard training in the States.

Still that tiny voice lingered in the Potters' head. "Do you think we could risk it, Lils?" James asked. He traced a finger over Harry's frozen picture wishing more than anything it would move or do something magical like Jasmine's. "They don't screen our mail, right? So, they wouldn't know about this one infraction."

Lily frowned. "James, we can't!"

James slammed a shaking fist down to the table, sending the letter and picture to the floor. "Why not?! Harry is clearly magical if the letters are anything to go by. We can't let him be shipped off to some asylum that pick and prod him as if he were some new species. He needs to learn of his heritage, Lily!"

James simmered down staring over at his oblivious three-year-old daughter who sat in her high-chair. She was mystified by her coloring book with tiny print animals that made all sorts of noises to her amusement and bounded across the pages to her fervent delight. "Don't you wish you could send him a broom or a fake wand; Merlin, my own son hasn't seen a chocolate frog! He's a wizard, Lily. A wizard that's ignorant to his blood."

Lily gave him a watery smile. She inched down to the floor and picked up Harry's picture. She gazed at the frozen image of her son, his flaming red hair sharply contrasted by a puke-green baseball cap twisted backwards, his grin was wide as he showed off his newest game system with a whole slew people around him. Harry was nestled in Bruce's arms. "They look like family," she murmured sadly.

She gathered her wits. "We," she pointed to herself and then James, "couldn't tell Harry of his parentage in a letter, over a phonecall, or say it face to face until he is of age and receives a letter from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and so forth. However, Bruce is Harry's caretaker, there's nothing in the Statue of Secrecy that says we cannot tell the caretaker of a magical child."

James gave her that special smile that sent her toes curling. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, the kiss full of fire and passion. He pulled back, grinning impishly and practically buzzing with joy and excitement. A welcome change to his attitude a few seconds ago. "You're fucking brill, Lils! I married the cleverest witch of our generation," he preened.

Lily giggled like a fourth-year schoolgirl. She swatted at his arm playfully. "James."

"It's true, Lils. I lucked out when I managed to get a ring on your pretty finger," he praised. He popped another kiss on her cheek and then leaned away, back to being serious.

"So, when we do tell Bruce?" he asked.

Lily glanced back at the newest picture of their son, bright yellow icing smeared all over his face. "On his seventh birthday," she finalized.

James nodded happy as can be. His son's seventh birthday. He'd be sure to bring him a broom and a few dozen gifts. Maybe say hello and hang with him for the day, introduce Harry and Jasmine. Oh, it danced across his eyes. He hoped that the three hundred and fifteen days would pass in a snap. "On his seventh birthday," he repeated lost in his daydreams.

...

"Dad! Uncle Tony and Uncle Steve are fighting —," Harry's words died in his throat as he scampered into his father's study. There were three adults in there, two of which he had seen in pictures, the other his father. Naturally, Harry ran to his father's side and clasped his hand within his own. He wore his best poker face.

"Dad," he said, "Are they Lily and James?"

His father nodded stiffly and Harry looked back at Lily and James. He was young but he wasn't stupid. He recognized the facial features and the wild hair he had gotten from James, and the hair and eye color he had received from Lily, alongside her pale skintone. They were his biological parents. "Why are you here?" he questioned, defensive.

"Harry!" his father admonished. "Be nice!"

Harry twisted toward his father, incredulous. He was being nice. "I was just asking them a simple question," he answered with a slight whine. His father gave him a look as if to say: What do you take me for, an idiot? Harry harrumphed, he stared back at Lily and James.

"Well," he prompted. "Why are you here? You usually send me a letter and money."

James gave him a trained sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "Well son, we had to explain some important matters to Bruce and iron out some details," he explained. "We also thought," he wrapped an arm around Lily and brought her forward, "we'd take you out for a day for you to meet some of your family. Your baby sister, Jasmine, is real excited to meet you."

Harry kept his poker face, inside he was boiling. Why in the world would he want to spend time with Lily, James, and his baby sister? They who had abandoned him when he was younger, they who never bothered with a phonecall or popped in for a visit before. They who were complete strangers, but still had the balls to write at the end of their letters: Love your parents.

To Harry, Lily and James were theys, mere shades of people that wore the nametags of Mom and Dad. Harry did not hate Lily and James, but he held no love for people that never were. Bruce and rest of the Avengers was the only family he needed, not them.

"Would you like that, Harry?" James' voice jolted him from his thoughts.

Harry looked up to his father for advice, but his dad's face read nothing. He'd make this decision on his own. His feet moved on their own accord away from his father until they planted him firmly between his biological parents and the parent that was his by heart. "You can come to my birthday party, today at 4. You can meet all my Aunts and Uncles, Wade, and Peter. Jasmine can come along too."

He kept his face impassive at the hint of heartbreak on Lily's features. He tucked his head. "I'm not ready to spend alone time with you. Sorry."

He inclined his head to his father and strode out of the room, letting out a giant breath he didn't realize he was holding. He had a birthday party to get ready for. An hour later Harry was finally ready for his party. He strolled out of his room and took on a leisurely pace as he walked down to the hallways. His Uncle Tony said it was always important to make an entrance and be fashionably late to celebrations, even if they were his own.

And what an entrance he made. As soon as he stepped foot into the main dining room a collective roar of "Surprise!" sent him at least three feet up into the air with an "AAH!"

Were they trying to kill him? He spied the camera in Pepper and Dad's hand and their knowing smirks sent to each other. That was years of humiliation right there, he would never be rid of it. Yes, they were trying to kill him with embarrassment. His face set in a pout, Harry steered clear of the adults of the party heading straight over to Wade, Peter, and the Young Avengers. He was immediately pressed up against Cassie and Kate (Stature and Hawkeye) while Nate and Eli(Iron Lad and Patriot) took turns ruffling his hair.

"Guys," Harry gasped when he was finally let go(Cassie and Kate's boobs never failed to suffocate him),"I missed you too!" And he did miss the Young Avengers. Ever since he had gotten into the Avengers Academy at five, they had been a constant fixture in his life, but since they moved up to an Advanced and already decided on forming a team it just wasn't the same anymore.

That being said Harry counted his lucky stars that he sometimes saw them between classes, and they never failed to stop by his dorm room at least once a week. He stepped back and appraised his quasi older siblings with small smile and a wince.

Cassie had gotten a tiny bit taller and was letting her blonde hair grow out. Kate was as pretty as always with the perfect deadly Ice-Queen aura around her, Nate, Harry laughed. What could he say about Nate? He was forever dressed in his shiny silver and red armor, Harry hadn't ever seen him without it. Actually, Harry didn't think anybody had seen Nate without his armor, well, maybe Cassie since Kate had told Harry they were going steady; whatever that meant. Harry's green gaze skimmed over to Eli noticing that the African-American Team Leader had bandages covering the right half of his face.

Ouch!

Harry worried about the Young Avengers every time they were sent on missions, they were like older siblings to him. He didn't think he could bare it if he were to lose one of them. He sniffed once and willed the depressing thoughts away. They were here today, alive and well, and he should take advantage of the fact.

"So! What did you bring me!" Harry asked after a period of silence, bouncing on his heels. "I heard you guys were in Egypt battling a Sphinx, so…" he held out his hands. As expected Cassie brought her knuckles down hard on his skull, her blue eyes blazing.

"Is that how you ask for anything, short stuff?" she fired. Harry held his head, glaring right back at her.

"It's my birthday! And besides, who are you calling short, you miniature- sized hag!" Harry sharply retorted. Cassie made a move to bonk him on his head again, but he dodged with a happy smile and laugh.

He really did miss them. He continued on with Cassie and the rest of his party guests. He never noticed Lily and James slipping out with a small toddler in their arms, and he didn't see them again until nine years later.


	3. A Day in the Life of an Intermediate

Harry was sure if Pepper or his father had heard him he would be choking down soap for an hour. The reason being he was cursing up a storm. His alarm clock had awakened him fifty minutes later at 7:50 as opposed to seven, and breakfast ended in fifteen minutes. It had taken him five minutes to hurriedly dress in his school uniform, brush teeth, moan at the mess of his hair and grab his Intermediate card. Needless to say, he streaked down the multicolored hallways of the Avengers Academy, praying that he got there in time for something to eat. He made it to the huge cafeteria at 7:59.

Great, six minutes until breakfast ended.

He scooted around the round tables of the cafeteria until he found a table with a lone Peter Parker, and a hello - who was that? Harry slumped into the empty seat next the brunet boy genius sending a grateful smile to him when he slid over a carton of chocolate milk and a blueberry muffin. "You are my very best friend, Peter!" Harry happily chimed. His friend gave him that look: the Mom Look. His eyebrows knitted together, his arms crossed, his thin lips pursed together.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He sent a look to new kid at the table who just smiled, offering nothing. Traitor. He glanced back at Peter, whose brown gaze practically penetrated his soul, compelling him to spill all his deepest darkest secrets and beg for repentance. For pity's sake, Peter was ten, it was unfair he had a creepy adult stare. Harry lasted only thirty seconds.

"Ok! Ok! I confess! I stayed up until 12:30 and I told Wade and the twins to wake me up if my alarm didn't go off. Of course, they left me and that's why I'm late. Also, I didn't do my back-to-school worksheet so, if I could just pee–," Harry gulped at the raised eyebrow from Peter. "What was I thinking? I'll just accept the responsibility of my actions and stuff this muffin my mouth. Mmm, delicious!"

Peter gave him a nod and smiled. He watched Harry take a big bite of muffin, only softening his glare when Harry started to chew. Harry subtly pouted; his friend was such a mom. He took another huge bite of his muffin, his stare inevitably drawn to boy across from him who was trying to stifle his laughs behind a Captain Underpants Book. Harry was sure he hadn't ever seen him around the academy.

He had a mess of black hair, a pale complexion, and dark brown eyes. Harry would've pegged him as another run-off-the-mill kid if it wasn't for the immense amount of magical energy rolling off of him and the fact that he was wearing a giant, red, frayed cloak thingie. "Pho izth thisth gi?" Harry garbled out, tiny crumbs spewing across the table. Peter jabbed him sharply in the side. Harry swallowed.

"Sorry," the tips of his ears turned red. "I'm Harry Banner," he introduced himself holding out his hand. "Who are you?"

The boy gave him a small smile and shook Harry's offered hand. "It's okay. My name is William Kaplan, but call me Billy." Harry nodded and smiled at Billy. He knew that looks could be deceiving, but if he had to guess Billy was also an Intermediate like him and Peter, which meant he was between the ages of nine and eleven. Cool! He was getting all excited. If Billy was indeed an Intermediate Harry guessed Billy would be placed in his Magics class. Yes, he'd no longer be alone with Agatha and Dr. Strange.

"Harry, why don't you show Billy around the school? It's his first year here and it just so happens he has the same schedule as you do," Peter said just as the bell rang. He pressed his glasses back up his nose, waved, and then left. Harry mournfully tossed his milk and muffin in the trash Billy by his side.

"So," Harry started with dry tone, "guess what we have first?"

Billy raised a black eyebrow and shrugged. "Gym."

Harry nodded. "Gym," he intoned. "Gym with Ms. Tigra." Harry shook his head and sped up. There was no use trying to delay what was due to happen. He only hoped that Billy would fare better than him, but knowing the crazy teachers at the Avengers Academy. He was sure that was unlikely.

/

Harry shivered as he stood in line with his classmates. He was dressed as everybody else: blue shorts, sneakers, a white t-shirt with the red Avengers' signature symbol on the front. Also, like everybody else, he was staring at the smiling faces of his gym teachers Mr. Fantastic and Multiple Man with wide eyes (Tigra was out for the week.). Instead of martial arts this week, Mr. Fantastic and Multiple Man wanted to try a little experiment. Two students paired up against them, whatever pair lasted the longest would be excluded from running the three miles around the track.

Harry thought that was little unfair. He was a scrawny, knobby-kneed nine-year-old and the other Intermediates weren't that much better. None of them stood a snowball's chance in heck against heroes like Mr. Fantastic, a genius with an elastic body, and Multiple Man who was a S.H.I.E.L.D operative, trained in several forms of combat and had the power of replicating himself multiple times over. They'd be lucky if they lasted thirty seconds against these guys when they were going easy.

Wait! What was he saying? Harry straightened himself out. He was the son of the Hulk and adorable nephew of Earth's mightiest heroes. He was aspiring to be a great superhero. He couldn't let himself be cowed so easily and without even trying. He steeled his nerves, he could do this!

"I'll be pairing you up into your groups," Mr. Fantastic said as he held a clipboard. "There will be no switching." The whole class moaned and groaned, but Mr. Fantastic continued to wear his irritatingly calm smile starting to list off the names. Harry hoped against all odds that he'd be paired up with Billy, but his newfound friend was given to America Chavez, a feisty girl. And from there, all his other friends began to dwindle down and get into his groups. Harry was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Please, Harry prayed. He turned his stare upwards to the high ceiling of the gym. Anyone but hi–

"Harry Banner and Gabriel Summers," Mr. Fantastic said.

Fudge nuggets. Harry took everything back about not throwing in the towel before he even started. He was doomed. Gabriel Summers was his arch-nemesis. They hated each other since September 21st 1997 when they first met.

Now, Harry could've gone into a long convoluted tale of why he and Gabriel were sworn enemies. However, all the public needed to know was that it involved glue, glitter, chicken pox, and lion and bear shaped animal crackers. Mr. Fantastic called one last pair and then he gave every group a number. Harry and Gabriel were given the number nine out of fifteen. Obviously, they'd be going ninth. Up first were Felicia and Teddy.

As much as Harry wanted to watch the first fight his attention was siphoned somewhere else. He shuffled to the blue bleachers and sat next to an equally unhappy Gabriel. Gods, Harry scowled darkly as Gabriel scowled right back, even going so far to stick his tongue out. Tch, Harry could do that too. And he did. They'd never work together in a million bazillion years. Harry was sure of that.

"Ooh. Little people sexual tension, my favorite," a familiar voice pitched. Harry's expression quickly changed to surprise. He swiveled to face the rows of the bleachers behind him. Was it sad to say that he wasn't surprised to see his supposed best friend (besides Peter) seated two rows ahead of him?

"Wade!"

Wade Wilson bounded forward at the mention of his name. He skipped down to sit directly between him and Gabriel. His red-and-black mask as always present on his face. "Hiya Harry. I hope I wasn't interrupting your lover's spat with your boyfriend."

Harry bristled irritably. "He isn't my boyfriend and we weren't having a lover's spat."

Wade nodded and pulled a sandwich wrap from his jean pockets. "I heard Principal Fury is a great marriage counselor, it isn't too late to salvage you guy's relationship. You know, do it for the kids and stuff."

Harry stared blankly at his friend more than used to this sort of thing already. He brushed the comment aside and started on a completely new subject. "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now; specifically, Coulson's English class?"

Wade nodded. "Supposed to but I figured checking on my wittle buddy Harry would be much more interesting."

"You're hopeless," Harry grumbled.

The very bottom of Wade's mask stretched at the corners, indicating his friend was in fact smiling. He patted Harry on the back. "I love you too," he replied. Harry rolled his eyes but didn't have any time to comment. Apparently throughout the entirety of Wade's appearance and their conversations eight matches had passed; seriously, it hadn't even been ten minutes.

"Team Nine!" boomed Mr. Fantastic. Harry gulped. Game time.

Wade pushed him and Gabriel from their seats. Both of them took micro-steps forward until they arrived in front of their opponents at the center of the gym. Harry suddenly felt very, very small.

The gym was big and wide. Peter once told him the school's gym was two times as big as the largest football field and about 1 1/2 times wider than it too. The gym though was divided into five parts for the Rookies, Novices, Intermediates, Advanced, and Heroes. Of course, Harry and Gabriel faced their gym teachers on the Intermediate part.

Harry's foot covered a deep skid mark. Did he fail to mention that their gym was virtually destroyed? Haha ha. He was going to die.

"When you boys make the first move, we'll start," Multiple Man said coolly. He gave them what Harry imagined was an encouraging smiles, which weren't all that encouraging considering their position, but it was a nice effort. Harry glanced at Gabriel who mirrored him, they were both immeasurably panicky, their animosity had no place on the battlefield.

"Truce for now?" asked Harry tentatively.

Gabriel nodded stiffly, "Truce."

Good, that was out of the way. "Do you have any idea what we should do?"

Gabriel threw him an incredulous stare. So, they were both clueless. That's great. Harry folded his arms and tried to think, but his thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Fantastic's fists shot out toward him. He immediately dropped to the ground just a second before, invading the hit.

"I thought you were going to give us first move!" Harry yelped.

Multiple Man chuckled, "We did. Talking counts as your move."

Harry grumbled under his breath but didn't have time to dwell on his feelings. He had to keep dodging and move out of the way. For the moment all he knew was move and never ever stop.

Punch. Kick. Drop. Backflip. Eyes on the Enemy. Never look back. Be as fast and agile as snake, you cannot ever give your an enemy time to find your weak points or to attack.

He was small and fast. Faster than his teachers, but that was his only true advantage. His speed wouldn't last forever, Multiple Man and Mr. Fantastic had stamina in spades. He was basically staving off the inevitable; it could be just one sluggish moment and he was out just like that.

Whether by Fate or dumb luck he ended up back-to-back with Gabriel in the right corner of the gym. "What do we do, Summers?" Harry immediately fired off. He moved slightly to the left to avoid Mr. Fantastic's kick, he could feel Gabriel's hard stare boring into him. "What?" Harry snapped. "We need a plan – !"

"Don't you think I know that!" Gabriel hissed as he blocked off an attack by Multiple Man's dupes, he sent one of them to the ground before he spoke again. "I can't think when I'm constantly moving," he admitted harshly. "It's difficult."

Harry wished he could've gaped, really he did, but he didn't have the reaction time for that. He was using everything within him to ward off his crazy gym teacher seemingly hell-bent on drawing him out of the corner. Gabriel, his arch-nemesis, was probably the third smartest kid in the Intermediate rankings. He always scored high on everything he did. The teachers praised him with every chance they got. So, how could he not have a plan by now? It was mind-boggling to Harry.

"Ok," Harry said, "... what powers can you use?"

Gabriel cheekily grinned at him. "Watch." He held up his small arms in front of him and pushed, his eyes engulfed in an unnatural bright amber light. To Harry, it appeared as if he was trying to push air or something invisible, but seconds later a soft amber swallowed their whole corner and then it disappeared. Gabriel panted still holding out his arms.

Mister Fantastic and Multiple Man double-attacked them with their most powerful kicks and punches, to his pleasant surprise they were repelled.

"Jesus!" Harry exclaimed, feeling the inexplicable urge to wrap Gabriel up in a hug. "You can create force fields! Why didn't you do that before?"

The tips of Gabriel's ears burned red. "I was waiting for you," he said softly.

"Huh?" Harry blinked at the Gabriel in confusion. "Me? Why?"

Gabriel shrugged. "It's a team effort, Banner and my force field won't last forever. The longest I've ever kept it was for five minutes, and that's because my brothers and I…," he abruptly cleared his throat. "Forget it. You need to plan, Banner, I know it takes a while for you to gather up your magic and focus. So, use the time I've graciously bought."

Harry nodded. He ran a hand through his auburn locks. He slid to the ground and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, beginning one of the easiest meditation exercises Dr. Strange had taught him. How cheesy and cliché it sounded that he had to look deep within himself to find his magical reserves, but he couldn't find any other way to explain it. He focused on finding the ever-constant buzzing of raw natural energy that flowed in him, when he found said energy, he grabbed onto it he tugged hard. His eyes snapped open, glowing with an unnatural sheen.

"Dark," Harry said. "I'm going to make it dark."

Gabriel nodded tiredly. "Good, they can't see in the dark, but neither can we."

Harry exhaled, running fingers through his hair once more. Agatha or Dr. Strange, hadn't taught him any charm or spell to ward his eyes against darkness. It was a minor setback, one they'd have to take. "I know, Summers, I know what to do," he reached out his hand and grasped Gabriel's, plucking him down to the ground beside him. This was way, way too close to be with his arch-nemesis but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Startled, Gabriel's connection with his force field severed and it fell a moment after Harry whispered, "Nox Maximus."

The lights were stolen, they were in blessed obscurity. Harry struggled to stifle his laughter. They were in darkness, the spell worked. He gave Gabriel a reassuring squeeze, now, it was his turn to impress the teachers with his powers, and hopefully be done with the gym stunt.

"We're gonna tie them up, Summers, and then we'll figure this out from there," Harry said continuing to speak in really low tones, they were crawling as he was talking. He hoped Gabriel was following all of this. Nox Maximus kept them in complete darkness. He couldn't see three inches in front of his face much less Gabriel.

"Incarcerous!" he hissed. The spell in theory would use rope to bind their enemies and the match would be done. Now, while it sounded all good and jolly there were several problems. The most prominent one being you had to know where your enemies were to tie them up. If you didn't your ropes were useless. Harry saw nada; honestly, he could see better with his eyes closed.

"Did you get them, Banner?" Gabriel asked.

Harry licked his lips. "I don't know, I assume so."

Gabriel jerked his hand hard sending Harry back a few inches. "You don't know Banner? How can you not know, we were riding on this whole thing…" at that point Harry sorta tuned Gabriel's angry whispered rant out. He opened his free hand and silently conjured a baseball-sized orb of bright silvery light.

Three things happened at once. Gabriel made a sharp keen and tackled him to the hard ground and Mister Fantastic's arms coiled around them in unbreakable bond. Multiple Man stood somewhere close, chuckling. "A light in a dark room, you're begging to be caught."

Mister Fantastic's arm tightened considerably around them. "Lights," he said.

Harry flinched as the backup lights of the gym blinked back on. Multiple Man gave Harry and Gabriel a knowing smirk, and then walked (swaggered) off to call the next team. He just had to add salt to the wound when he loudly announced his wishes for Team Ten. He hoped they didn't make such a rookie mistake as Harry had done and would actually provide a challenge.

Mister Fantastic released them not a minute later with affectionate ruffles to the head. "Good job you two. Almost had us."

Harry trudged back to his seat by Wade while Gabriel sent him his nastiest scowl mixed with his most poisonous glare. He stomped over to sit by his personal cheerleader, Deathbird. He spared a one more glance to his arch-nemesis and then gave his all his attention back to Wade. "I'm surprised you survived that long," Wade said, grinning through his mask. "You were running with your tail tucked between your ass the entire time."

Harry's face reddened. "Shut up! I'm almost had them. Only if–," Wade slapped a scarred hand over Harry's mouth. He pinned his harshest stare on Harry.

"Let me stop you right there; if," he acidly spit, losing his usual wispy tone. "Are you aware what if implies? If is hypothetical. If implies what could have happened. There is no room for if in reality especially in this line of work. It can get you killed. If only you were a bit faster. If only so-and-so was here. If!"

Wade inhaled. "There is only you did or did not. No shades of grey, understand?" Harry nodded sharply, chastised. Wade lowered his hand slowly.

Wade lifted his mask just the slightest to show his lips. He gave Harry a wild grin, saluting. "So long, lost boy. Enjoy P.E."

Harry clucked his tongue. His attention shifted back to the gym where he watched another team get decimated. Wade was right. There was no such thing as if.

/

Harry moaned as he climbed the winding metal stairs to get to his class with Mrs. Zimmerman. He hated math class, dividing and multiplying double digits was hard. He sometimes wished he was gifted with the awesome mutant power of genius-intellect, but no, he was stuck with civilian-level smarts.

Billy on the otherhand seemed to be excited about Math. He yammered the whole way on how he was top of his former math class and he almost always got a hundred percent on tests, well, whoop-de-do for him. Harry was just going to stew in angst over math.

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend when he strolled in the class, choosing to sit in the back. He muttered under his breath as he began to take the school supplies out of his backpack. Hopefully, Mrs. Zimmerman wouldn't call for a homework check and he could just get away with not doing his homework.

A few more students filed into the classroom just before the bell rung. Mrs. Zimmerman got up from her desk. She smoothed out her grey dress and tucked back a piece of short blonde hair. She looked like a clown with the amount of makeup slathered onto her pale face.

Mrs. Zimmerman introduced herself once again, which was usual routine for the first week of school, and then said some spiel about how she was so excited to be teaching the next generation of heroes the wonders of percentages and fractions, Harry mostly ignored her. It wasn't until a few more mini-talks, beginning the lesson when Harry finally relaxed.

But Emily Filmore had to go and ruin it. "Mrs. Zimmerman?" she said, raising her hand. Mrs. Zimmerman couldn't ignore a star pupil of the AA, so, she sat down her dry erase marker and turned to Emily with a large smile.

"Yes?"

Emily opened her pink folder clearly labeled Maths, pulling out the worksheet from the last night. "You forgot to collect homework," she said innocently. Mrs. Zimmerman gasped a little and thanked Emily for reminding her. Harry's face made contact with his desk.

So close.

/

English was a completely different subject matter and Harry was happy to be in the class. His seating partners were Johnny Storm and Peter. His teacher was the forever cool, Mr. Young. He was old as Professor Xavier, but he still knew how to have fun and because of that English was a favorite of his. The hour and half flew by in a flash. He was kinda sad to see it end, but he also very, very happy English class led into a subject he was actually excelled it; Magics!

He waited for Billy outside of the English classroom before he grabbed his wrist and started to zoom. Zoom was an art Peter taught him, which basically meant if you were small enough find every crack and cranny between people and use it to your advantage. It was a great way to get to class faster and not deal with pesky older students that forgot the hallway was for walking, not to stand there and chatter about their mundane lives.

He raced through the Intermediate hallway until he skidded in front of a large blue door. Harry let go of Billy's wrist, excitedly pointing to the door. Billy deadpanned at him. "Why are you so excited, this is a Janitor's closet."

"No," Harry said as he reached for silver handle, focusing a bit of magic into his hand. "You think this a janitor's closet, but it's our classroom." He opened the door to reveal a janitor's closet.

The lone mop clattered to the floor.

Harry peered inside, dumbfounded. This couldn't be. Where was his classroom? He swore it was here last year like it was every single year since he started AA as a rookie, was he going crazy? Did he miss some sort of memo?

"Uh Harry?" Billy tapped him on the shoulder. He glanced over his shoulder at the brunet. Said brunet was suppressing a smile as he dug his schedule from his bag and showed it to Harry. "Magics is room 201, this is room 200," he said.

"Oh…" this got awkward very fast. Harry pulled back from the closet and closed the door. He moved to his right copying his earlier movements the new door. "Okay! This is the magic room!"

"Harry," Agatha's warm voice greeted him. "Don't tell me you got lost again?"

Harry scowled as he stepped into his favorite classroom. He set his bag down on the side gesturing for Billy to do the same. He wasn't surprised to see that nothing had changed. The room was still covered in all sorts of items that screamed magic.

To the left there were animated posters and portraits on the walls painted to resemble the Milky Way, lots of stars twinkled and zoomed by. On the right were all of Agatha's and Doctor Strange's memorabilia from battles and whatnots — so a couple of broom brands and types from the earliest in the 15th century to the latest Nimbuses, a head from an enemy, a waving claw from a werewolf, a pixie garden, a Nemean throw rug that roared every time when stepped on it, you know normal stuff.

"Billy, this is Agatha, she's an old spinster, don't mind her," introduced Harry. He pointed to the Agatha, dressed in royal purple robes, her white hair pinned into a strict bun.

"Always the polite one, Harry."

Agatha smiled as she circled them like a predator, giving "Mhms." and "Uh-huhs." She even reached out to pinch them on the cheeks a couple of times. Those times were met with glares and rubbing of tender pink skin.

"He's a powerful one." She nodded. Billy blushed at her.

"Alright, time for potions," Agatha said. She waved her hand and two desks with supplies and a small black cauldron sitting on spiral burners were placed in the middle of the room. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Potions! It's the very week of magic class and already we're doing potions!" he exclaimed, not pouting.

"Don't be too excited, Harry," teased Agatha. "It's a review of last year, make the Befuddlement Draught." Agatha strode to behind her desk to the white board. She wrote as she spoke. "You have the entire class to finish."

Harry groused under his breath, nevertheless, he got to work. The first part of the potion was crushing the brain of a red tree frog. He grimaced already imagining the sticky brain fluid. How he hated potions.

/

By the time dinner rolled around Harry's were nerves were frayed and his confidence at an all time low. He trudged by Billy, head downcast, both of them were headed to the cafeteria. He was sorta listening to Billy babble excitedly about his classes and the new friends he made. Normally, Harry would be engaged in such talk but today had been such a disaster.

From P.E. to Computers class nothing seemed to go right for him. His only shining light was in English. Today made him feel like maybe he wasn't cut out to be a superhero like the rest of his family, maybe, Dad was wrong when he said that one day his name would be up there next to all the greats, perhaps even surpassing the infallible Superman.

Harry plopped down into his plastic chair beside Peter, Billy joining him on his other side and… he searched around… "Johnny's eating with his older sister today," Peter easily supplied. He passed along two steaming plates of spaghetti and meatballs to Harry and Billy.

The brunet pushed back his thick glasses. Why, he wore them Harry never knew. Unlike some people (him!), the kid had been blessed with perfect vision ever since he was bitten by that spider years ago. "So, how did your first day go?"

Billy launched into his tales. He picked out his favorite teachers and interesting students, intimidating subjects and all that great stuff. Peter nodded in all the right places, adding in his own little helpful comments, and even laughed at Billy's animated faces. Harry was silent. Just sitting there. Blankly.

"—And you, Harry?" Peter turned to him.

Harry gave him a morose shrug. Billy frowned. "I'm sure tomorrow will be better, Harry. Mondays are always the worst," he said helpfully.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Harry shrugged again.

"He is right, Banner. Failure is something that no hero lives without. You'll just have to learn from your failures and them into successes," Peter said. "What would the world be like if Thomas Edison decided to quit with light bulbs, or if cavemen didn't seek out warmth, or if evolution decided that their first creation was butt-ugly and wanted to quit? If Ash decided that Pikachu wasn't his pokem—"

"Peter."

"If Gandhi didn't go on his hunger strike, if America succumbed to Britain's tyrannical rule, if African-Americans didn't demand their freedom rights, if Apple didn't have Windows as competition…"

"Peter."

"If Columbus decided to sail the other way, if Rome quit after Caligula, if —"

Harry sent an exasperated to Billy. Billy, in turn, was struggling not to laugh outright, he looked as if he was on the verge of passing out from holding in his giggles. Harry sighed, this happened every time he was down in the dumps. He knew from experience Peter could go on for hours. Luckily, he knew how turn his friend off.

"Peter, I caught Harry Osbourne confessing his love to Mary Jane. I heard from Gwen Stacy that they shared kisses and were now holding hands…"

"What!" Predictably, Peter flipped, brown eyes zeroing on him. "Tell me it's not true!"

Harry patted Peter's shoulder. "It's not true, I just needed you to stop your 'What would happen if so-so gave up, speech.'"

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes. "I guess I went a little overboard this time."

"A little." Harry snorted. "Look what you've reduced poor Billy into." He pointed to the hysterically laughing brunet next to him, trying and failing to mute his belly laughs behind his hand.

"Whatever, I just need you to not give up on your dream of becoming superhero."

"I won't," Harry said after a pause.

"Promise."

Harry nodded. "I promise."

"You'll be better than Superman and Captain America with an ego bigger than Batman and Iron Man?" Peter asked, smiling largely at him.

"The biggest and best," Harry answered with a small laugh of his own.


	4. Battles

Harry was eating fruity pebbles when it happened.

There was a loud beeping sound, Jarvis' voice crackled onto the intercom: "Code Four Lockdown." The AI repeated three times and then cut off. In all his years, Harry had never heard that in the Stark Towers but in all his years, he had never been left alone in the tower with everyone gone sans Pepper.

Harry forgot his cereal and started to run to his rooms. Pepper stayed in the guest room until Dad came back along with the rest of the Avengers. He burst into Pepper's room hoping for some explanation and he saw it.

She was sitting on the bed in her pajamas. The remote clutched in her fingers and she stared at the plasma screen in horror. There was a frantic blond talking to them but Harry had tunnel vision. He saw Doctor Doom, his usual army of Doom Bots and the Scarlet Witch.

There's the Young Avengers are on the ground, half of them are moving citizens to safety, and the other half are fighting. Mr. Fantastic, Wolverine, and The Avengers are fighting off Doom Bots and dodging narrow strikes from enemies. It's crazy having all the people you care about in one concentrated area fighting for their lives. He wished he had a thousand eyes like that of Argos, watching everyone. Alas, he only had two, two he chose to focus on Dad smashing everything and anything that came his way.

There were booms, explosions, roars, and desperate screams of panic. Several times the camera's view was blocked by billowing black smoke and ash.

He could not make heads or tails of this battle, and to be honest he didn't want too. Harry prayed that his family would come out winners in this battle, alive winners, at that. The Scarlet Witch and Doctor Doom weren't easy opponents, level X villains, which his teachers never failed to warn them about. They were not to engage in combat unless on a team of seasoned heroes.

And then, Harry's attention switched over to Cassie. She grew as tall and big as a skyscraper, he saw someone climbing up on her, and she was reaching toward Doctor Doom and Harry had that feeling. That horrible, dread feeling squirming in his stomach.

God.

It was the worst feeling in the world, like being caught between the extremities of hot and cold, and he wished it would go away — he heard the biggest explosion in the world and Harry swore for a few seconds the world was in slow-mo. No sound was heard. The fiery clouds of the explosion dissipated and she, his sister, small and fragile, was falling along with the stars and stripes, so, are metal pieces…

Dad caught Cassie and Captain America.

It was like coming up out of water, Harry greedily sucked in air. The world returned the normal speed, the sound suddenly zapped back to life. There's a sudden commotion and Avengers and Young Avengers were fighting back with newfound strength. The battle lasted maybe ten minutes and Doctor Doom and Scarlet Witch were receding, running away with hissed words of, "I'll be back."

The camera switched over to the heroes of the battlefield and they muttered a few words before the camera went dead. Harry slowly faced Pepper. "I think I'm going to stay in here for a minute," he said to her.

Pepper nodded. Harry nodded back. And then, he sunk to the floor, criss-cross applesauce. Silent. He refused to acknowledge the tears starting at the corner of his eyes or the ones sliding down his face.

…

Harry's fourteenth birthday was a somber one. His usual big-bang letters James and Lily sent to him were left unopened. His new gadgets and gizmos were left unplayed, it just wasn't the same. The Young Avengers had dissolved, The Avengers were still in that fog of losing a teammate as was the rest of the world.

It was just… just.

The only gifts Harry cared for was the partially finished painting done by Uncle Steve with him surrounded by the Avengers, and the small charm Cassie had bought for him a week prior to her death.

His birthday mirrored how the rest of his summer went. Sad and mournful.


	5. Team Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important Things that need to be said before I lose like a fuck ton of readers because people are finicky about slash or mentions of it: Harry won't be in a gay relationship. He is bi, but I've decided that he's either going to be single throughout this story with hints to some relation with a girl, or I'm going to pair him up someone of the female gender. Who that is... I haven't decided that yet. Also, I need help thinking up of aliases for Harry. I'm thinking Lost Boy, but ehh. And another timeskip, little Har-bear is fourteen now. There should be one or two more, and then, I'm done with the major timeskipping.

Harry didn't know what happened. One minute he was biting into his BLT, enjoying his lunch, and in the next, he was caught in Peter's web.

He only had seconds to process the deceptively white wispy string connected to his shirt. Then, he was tugged. Violently. A surprised yelp escaped him as he went whooshing through the air. His surroundings whipped passed him in a blur of colors and incomprehensible shapes. And then, "Ow."

Thankfully, Harry had stopped flying by way of obstacle. Obstacle meaning something slightly hard and squishy, which he had landed face first. Dread covered him, he slowly unstuck himself, sinking to the tile floor with a blush. He opened his mouth, ready to pelt out an apology for yet again using a female's chest as pillow, only his apology died, when he connected eyes with Peter's.

"You're late," said Peter, the corner of his lips twitching.

Harry blinked at him. A million thoughts racing in his head. Today was Saturday. He finished all classes for the day… just what was he late for?

Peter, thank his lovely best-friend Mom, seemed to take pity on him. He crossed his arms, hauling Harry up with the string he conveniently forgot to unlatch. "You're late for Team Creation?"

"Team Creation?" Harry tilted his head. It sounded oddly familiar.

Peter let out a soft exhale. "Hello." he waved a hand in Harry's face. "Did somebody forget his new rank as a hero, and last year, stated on the announcements that this year would be the year he was creating a mighty team that would be mentored by the Avengers?

"And you'd be holding auditions…"

"To anyone eleven and older, first weekend back to school," Harry finished. His light bulb flickered on. "Shit. I forgot everything Peter, with Uncle Steve, Cassie, and the Young Avengers… shit." Harry rubbed his face, an oncoming headache starting. He glanced at Peter.

"Haha, Peter, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you…"

Peter slapped Harry on the back, knocking all air out of Harry's lungs. Damn Peter and his super strength. Peter grinned. "I suppose I can help you, you owe me one though."

Harry nodded, struggling to control his wheeze. He noticed that he was near the entrance of the gym. He could hear them talking behind closed doors. Odin's beard, he was feeling sick to his stomach.

"Are you ready to go?"

Harry gulped. "As ready as I'll ever be."

…

Harry sat directly in the middle of the faux wooden table. Peter on his left. Aunt Natasha was on his right, and he was pretty sure Uncle Barton was prowling around somewhere in the gym's venting tunnel. He had a stack of papers all with large profile pictures in front of him. There were at least two hundred. Who knew so many people were interested.

He swallowed his nerves and finally did he move his stare from his papers to the squirming mass in front of him. Thankfully, they were all quiet, but the task was no less daunting. Four hundred plus eyes stared at him, all with hope glimmering in their eyes. He planned to take five people on his team at the most. Others would be shafted as potential allies.

Hopefully, none were the jealous type.

He cleared his throat, addressing the mass. "Welcome all. I would like to personally thank each and every one of you for taking time out of your Saturday and coming here. All of you have an equal chance of joining my team.

"Each one of you have five minutes to impress me and after your five minutes the audition is done. There will be no added time. I ask the rest of you to sit in the bleachers and wait until you're called, quietly, please. After your five minutes are over you may leave.

"And I discourage sabotaging, I have ways to find out if you have done so," Harry paused to give them all an enigmatic smile. "The roster for my team will be posted on the AA school page Monday night, there will be no changes on that. My decision is final.

Harry took a breath. "If you all agree to my words, I ask you to all swear on your magic, your power, that you will respect my final decision.

"Good luck, and don't fuck it up," he said amicably. "The lucky first, Marc Spector."

…

"Teddy Altman!" Harry shouted. Teddy was the one hundred and eightieth on his list. He scrolled on through the list of names. A number of them were already crossed off. He wasn't having the best of the luck finding members of his team. They all had powers, yes, but their powers left a lot to be desired.

Teddy shuffled forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, built like quarterback of a football team. He had soft blond hair, shocking blue eyes, and a number of silver earrings in his ears. Hmm. "Show me what you can do," Harry propped his hand under his chin and staring hard at his fellow classmate.

Teddy shrunk down a few inches. His body slimmed down to a skinnier, lither form. His blond hair darkened into a bright red — wild like a cuckoo's nest, his eyes taking on a brilliant green sheen, his face becoming more angular, and his skin turning a shade or two darker. In mere seconds, another Harry stood in the place of Teddy. This Teddy drowned in his typical jock clothes.

"My, my, what a handsome guy you make," Harry teased. Teddy gave him a sheepish grin in return.

"So, is that your only power?"

"Oh? No!" Teddy hurried along. He pinched his facial features together, seconds later, big green reptilian wings sprouted from him. He hovered for a bit, flexing his new appendages and growing thin, razor-sharp claws from his fingers.

Nice.

Teddy landed back to the ground safely. He fiddled with his red hair. "I have super strength," he expressed. Harry raised an eyebrow that read: Oh really?

He produced a small remote, smirking gleefully over at Teddy. He heard super strength from over fifty people, he was going to test that strength. He pressed the red button, a red pickup came flying from ceiling. Teddy wore a comical expression as he immediately caught the damn thing, lifting it above his head

"Is that heavy?" Harry asked.

Teddy shook his head. He even dared to drop one hand, holding the car with other.

"Can you handle more?"

Teddy nodded. His dark green eyes gleamed with the promise of a challenge mirroring Harry's. Harry nodded, he glanced down at the little black remote in his hand. His thumb hovered over the black button. If he pushed it… the ceiling would drop its heaviest load, and if Teddy wasn't crushed he'd truly have super strength, or well, enough super strength to impress him.

"Have you signed all the waivers?" he asked somewhat jokingly.

Teddy nodded.

"Okay." Harry jabbed the black button and watched as the doors the ceiling opened up to drop two train cabooses in rapid successions down. And to Harry's surprise and the astonishment of all others, Teddy caught both.

He had to carry them with both arms. He toddled the cabooses and pickup whilst hovering off the ground slightly. It was silent for a second, then, there was a loud burst of applause and the roar of approval from the attendees.

Teddy settled back to the ground. He placed the vehicles onto the ground and scratched the back off his head. A red dusting settled on cheeks as he smiled sheepishly. His wings flapped behind him, his transformation still in place.

"Uh, I hope I did well," Teddy said.

Harry chuckled. He placed a little marker next to Teddy's instead outright crossing out his name. "Don't doubt yourself," was all Harry offered before he shooed Teddy away. He could feel both Aunt Natasha's and Peter's eyes on him.

It looked like he found his first team member.

He glanced at the vehicles still left on the gym floor and wondered if they had cleanup for that. Oh well.

…

"America Chavez," said Harry.

He was tired. He didn't realize that this Team Creation would take so long and would be so boring. Gods, he went through some awful auditions like the Balloon Girl and Water Boy. Ah. He was hoping for a change of pace.

America sauntered to the center of the gym. Harry observed her; she was pretty with soft caramel skin, bow-shaped lips, and long curly black hair tied up in a messy bun. He lifted his eyebrow at her attire. They were short and umm, Harry hoped he wasn't blushing, form-fitting. America did have a nice body.

"So," Harry cleared his throat. "We're ready when you are."

America smiled. "Do you have a gun?"

"Wha—?"

Harry was interrupted by Aunt Natasha taking out her signature pistol. She threw it to America whom caught it with ease. America stared it over, she nodded to herself, and then positioned the gun at her head.

Harry swallowed hard.

"Just what are—" the words lodged in his throat as America pulled the trigger.

Harry didn't know what he expected but he didn't expect America to be giggling at him. Alive. Safe and Sound. She pointed the gun to her chest and took another shot, the bullet bounced off harmlessly, she took another aim at her legs, and all over her body, still giggling. Just like the Mad Hatter at tea time.

"You should see your face," she said between guffaws. "You really thought I'd pull a bitch move and kill myself."

Harry scowled. He did not. "So, are you invulnerable to bullets?"

"Obviously," America answered. "I'm also immune to fire. If you want I'll get Johnny Boy—"

"No!" Harry was surprised at how much his voice jumped in octaves. "I mean, I believe you, and we're on a timer, so, yeah."

America raised a brow but didn't object. She lifted her right foot and stomped the ground, hard. Harry was a bit startled when the ground rumbled and a long jagged line ran from America to Harry, and when he twisted around, behind them and the wall.

"Super strength?" he guessed.

"How did you guess?" she mocked with a wry smile. "Although I'm not as strong as your alien boy."

Harry wasn't sure who exactly this alien boy was but he went along with it. "Any other powers?"

America smirked. She was gone in a flash, literally. He didn't know whether she was running around with super-speed, like most who had randomly disappeared or if this was something else altogether. His musings were cut short because America appeared seconds later, munching on what looked like chocolate chips cookies.

"Harry, your Aunt and Uncle are dreadfully boring shitheads with a whale of a son that hide an extraordinary secret. Here's a hint, Yer a wizard," she said.

Harry was understandably confused. He did not what Aunt and Uncle, America spoke of. "Where did you go?"

"Another dimension, or rather, reality; I travel at my leisure," she shrugged it off as if it wasn't a big deal. And maybe it wasn't to her, but Harry had never seen an inter-dimensional space traveler before. It was pretty freaking cool in his opinion.

"I fly," America interjected, "and…" she suddenly appeared in Harry's lap, reverse cowgirl style. She sat there like a princess, like she belonged. "I have super speed too."

Harry cleared his throat. It was worst time for his teenage hormones to start buzzing with her in his lap. It was so unprofessional. "You're fucking blushing," America teased. "What, never had a girl in your lap?"

Harry hadn't a clue on a how to respond. Luckily for him, America's teasing didn't last long at all. She pinched his cheeks in a manner similar to Agatha and she was off. She was gone in a breeze and then re-appeared in her original spot in front of them.

She crossed her arms, giving them an award-winning smile. "Ta-da." She went off on her own, leaving Harry stunned. He glanced to his left where Peter was just as stunned, and when, he stared to his right he saw his Aunt Natasha smiling, a true smile, not one of her wolf-grins that usually meant she was going kick some serious ass.

"I like her," his Aunt said.

Harry exhaled. It looked like he found another worthy candidate to join his team.

Great.

"Bobbi Morse," Harry said the next name.

Number three hundred and ninety-nine. Yes, Harry could taste the finish line. He was so close to being done. He was never, ever going to do this again. Not even if his whole team was tragically killed off in some dramatic plot twist. This was torture.

He was going to place all the maybes as initiatives or backups.

"Billy Kaplan," Harry said without thinking. It took him a minute to realize to who he had called and he backtracked. "No," he told his waving best friend whom was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You are not doing this," he said dryly.

"Why not?"

"Because," Harry said. He wasn't going to explain himself. This was neither the time nor the place.

"No, No, I swore on my magic and did the whole shebang. You can't just write me off. I demand an audition like everyone else."

"Well, you can't have one," Harry said. He set down his pen.

"Why?" Billy persisted.

"Because you're…" Harry searched for the right word to appease his friend and the crowd of listening people. "Special," he finally settled. "It's because you're special and I can't allow you an audition. It'd make everyone uncomfortable."

At that. Billy drew back as if he had been punched by Harry, he threw Harry a funny look, one that Harry didn't quite know how to take. It was like a mixture of horror and disbelief. "Because I'm special?" he said in a tiny voice.

Harry nodded tentatively. He could feel Peter's eyes on him. "Yeah, Billy, I'm sorry," he said.

Billy's shoulders sagged and his normal exuberance was significantly dimmed. Harry didn't know what he said or what happened in the span of those seconds to make Billy look so dejected. His best friend nodded at him, and then, he trudged back to his spot in bleachers.

It felt like a thousand and one burning glares were directed at him and the room was so quiet Harry could hear every little cough and movement. Harry honestly hadn't a clue on what had happened. He shook a little when Peter laid a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close.

Peter was giving him the Mom Look again. He wanted to hang his head in shame and apologize for any misgivings he had ever done in his life. He usually knew what he did to earn those looks from Peter, but at this point, he was woefully oblivious.

"What?" he demanded in an angry whisper. "Why is everyone giving me the third-degree?"

Peter sighed. "Do you remember the important conversation we had after summer vacation, where Billy was really nervous… we were twelve, he had an experience over the summer that made him realize somethings," Peter said lowly.

Harry went blank. Just what was he was talking about, what talk, and that was so long ago. "… Dylan Sanders," Peter said.

At that, Harry felt rage bubble up within him. "That fucking bastard that broke Billy's heart, if I ever see h–"

"Harry," Peter said softly, chiding.

"What Peter, I don— oh," realization dawned on Harry. Peter was smiling faintly. He was such an idiot. He shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that, really. When I said he was special that was not what I was referring too. I don't care if he's gay."

"Then why?" Peter asked.

Harry sighed. He made a note to find Billy to apologize and reassure him after he was finished with these auditions. "When I said he was special I meant he was already on the team, or had a spot on the team if he wanted it.

"I didn't want to say it front of the others because they would all be butt-hurt over me being unfair, and I didn't want to go through another audition. Even if it's a mock one, because," at this point Harry was whining. "I've been sitting for a very long time and I just want this to be done, I don't want to be here longer than necessary."

"Oh," said Peter.

"Oh," Harry parroted back. "Should I finish this whole thing and then apologize to Billy?"

"Yeah," Peter said.

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples, "Alrighty then! Sorry for all the excitement, we'll be continuing this." He opened his eyes to peek at next name on his roster. "Ken Mack cometh forth."

Harry knitted his hands together, cracking them all once, and groaning in relief when the tension was gone. He was free at last, thank Henry's codpiece. He hopped from his chair and strolled along until he was in the center of the gymnasium. Apparently, everyone was just as hyperaware of his existence as they were hours ago, because he only had to stand there and the remaining students (those that stayed to see everyone's auditions) quieted down.

"Okay, first things first, thank you all for coming out and spending your precious time here. I really didn't expect such a turnout," he chuckled good-naturedly.

"I would like to say that each and every one of you have a viable talent or talents, each of you are superheroes in your own right. Just because I may not choose you to be on my team doesn't mean any of you are less than. You're all awesome, and yeah, be proud to be a mutant and be prouder of the superhuman abilities gifted to you."

The crowd of students cheered and whistled, Harry grinned and let them have their huzzahs. "Thank you, once again. Good luck to all of you!"

Harry waved to all of them as they began to file out of the gym. He watched them only to pick out Billy. When he saw his best friend, he wasted no time in running over to him, and tugging him out of the sea of chattering bodies. He kept his mouth shut until he and Billy were in a secluded corner.

Billy yanked free of his grip. "What do you want, Banner?" he asked harshly.

Harry flinched. Billy had never called him Banner, and he certainly never used that sort of tone with him; like he was undesirable number one. He supposed though that if he were in Billy's situation, he'd be same way. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"What are you sorry for? You're sorry for humiliating me in front of half of the school, for pretending to be my friend, for ever talking to a pathetic faggot—"

"Stop," Harry interjected. "You aren't pathetic, and you aren't a faggot. I don't fucking want to hear you call yourself that!"

He scuffed his shoe against the floors, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Billy was stark frozen in front of him, fiddling with his Wolverine T-shirt, his brown eyes were on Harry. "Look. I don't care if you're gay, I have never cared about that, and if I did hate you for being gay, it would be hypocritical."

Billy's jaw dropped, eyebrows raised. Harry laughed. "Don't look so surprised."

"You're gay?"

Harry shook his head. "Bi, I still appreciate a nice set of curves and tits," he said, shrugging.

"Bi," Billy muttered to himself. "Okay, what was that about being special?"

Harry blushed. "Sorry about that, man. That was just some spiel to try and get you from auditioning. I wanted you, I mean, you're automatically on the team if you're interested, ah, you don't have to join or anything—" Harry fumbled, backtracking, taking Billy's silence as rejection. "You'll always have a spot on the team if you wish, it isn't at all compulsory, yeah? Feel free to say something— I hope I'm not making a fool, oomph!"

Billy threw himself at Harry, wrapping his arms around his neck. He saw no other choice but to awkwardly hug his friend back. "Uh…"

"Harry, you're such an idiot, of course, I'll join!" Billy said gleefully.

"Okay," Harry patted his friend's back. "Will you get off of me now?"

"No," Billy gripped Harry tighter. "This is your punishment."

"Well then." Harry grinned at his friend. "I guess that's okay."

…

Again, Harry did not what had happened and why this continued to happen. The very next weekend, he was enjoying another delicious sandwich when the unexpected struck. An ominous message sounded on the intercom: Harry Banner report to the principal's office immediately. Harry Banner report to the principal's office immediately."

So, Harry did what any boy his age naturally did when called to the principal's office. He started to walk and think of what he did, when he did it, who might have ratted him out, and how he could possibly get out of it. Harry was generally a good child. Pepper and Bruce were strict parental figures, but then again, he did have Tony Stark, Thor, and Clint as uncles, he was prone to some mischievousness.

That mischief came in the form of pranks. Every couple of months, he pulled a prank or two or three, and his pranks tended to affect the whole school. Like the time, he brewed a potion to make everyone's skin turn varying shades of colors depending on their mood, which affected the student body for a solid week. There was the time in fourth grade where he cast a charm on every writing utensil in the school to turn into a creepy crawler. Oh, there was the time he got into school laundry and turned every piece of cloth invisible, and he couldn't forget the time…

Okay, Harry was getting nervous. There were a lot of 'there was the time' with him, but they pretty harmless tricks and most people were amused by his antics. He even had a few allies when pulling his pranks. His pranks never warranted a trip to the Nick Fury's, the principal of Avengers Academy and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s head operative, office. Plus, he just got to school. He hadn't the time to pull of another prank.

Eventually, there was no more shiny hallway left. Harry was left alone in the middle of AA staring down the main office. He took a deep breath and walked through the double doors into the office. As usual there were teachers buzzing around and answering calls and doing adult things.

Harry timidly approached the front desk. He was a bit surprised to see Lilith (Dracula's daughter) there typing away on a small laptop. He didn't know she worked there. "Excuse me?"

Lilith's bone-white fingers paused on the black keys. Her ruby stare met Harry's. Harry gulped. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Fury?" he phrased it more as question, hoping that she would laugh and say, that Nick Fury didn't request his presence.

"He's waiting for you. Go straight down and take a left," she said pleasantly. Harry's face dropped.

"Okay," he said in a tiny voice. He started to head to his potential doom. He kept face though and told himself it was not apprehension was feeling. Rather, a nasty case of indigestion, that's what it was, he just needed a good burp and he'd feel right as rain.

Yes, that was it.

By Jove, what did he do to gain Nick Fury's attention!

He was a pool of nerves by the time got to the door. Nick Fury was written in big block letters on the door. Yup, this was the place; the door to hell. His palms were horribly sweaty as he gripped the shiny handle and twisted.

He prayed that neither Pepper nor Dad was behind the door. He had an 'I can explain!' on his tongue just in case. He gathered his courage and opened the door, not at all trembling and not at all about to piss his pants.

"Harry," his principal's deep voice floated over to him. His good eye landed on Harry, surely seeing all his secrets. "Glad to see you made it." The door swung shut behind him. He subtly winced.

"Of course, sir," Harry said. He collapsed into the closest seat. He made himself comfortable enough; he squirmed around until he found a good enough spot to bare his principal's permanent glower.

"Are you nervous?" Nick Fury inquired.

"No," Harry lied. He wiped his sweaty hands on jeans. He met Nick Fury's eye with his own, thankfully, he did not look away until his principal did so.

"Good," Nick Fury said. "I have a task for you."

"A task, sir?" Harry said.

Nico Fury raised an eyebrow. "Yes, a task, I do not like to repeat myself."

Harry ducked his head making a metal note to not parrot back anything.

"Yes, I heard that you just finished Team Creation and from what I've gathered you have more or less chosen the members for your team."

"Sir?" He tried to control the faint tremor in his voice.

"The task I ask of you involves you and your team."

Harry patiently waited for his principal to elaborate. He didn't want some freaky long mission to be pushed on them too soon, for heaven's sake, they hadn't even had their first team meeting yet.

"You'll be gaining a new team member if you'll have him."

"Who is he?" Harry couldn't resist blurting out.

"Loki," Nick Fury said stonily.

Harry expected for Ashton Kutcher and Uncle Tony to burst through the door and yell, "You just got Punk'd." To his surprise, no cameras or screaming guys entered the room. Nick Fury was serious.

"You're serious," Harry couldn't resist saying.

"I don't kid," Nick Fury said. Somehow, Harry didn't doubt that.

"You can't be serious. He's Loki, you know, evil Loki that constantly sends down his minions to try and take over Earth. Loki that is the snake of all snakes. Loki is a trickster in just about every Norse myth."

"Are you done?"

"No." Harry crossed his arms. Perhaps, Nick Fury was getting in age or under some nefarious mind control. Loki was pure evil, Thor was his only advocate, and even that wavered sometimes.

"He's gotten in some skirmish and now he's been de-aged without any memories of his past actions or doings," Nick Fury explained.

"So, he's been reincarnated," Harry said irritably. "He's done that loads of times and he still turns out to be on the side of evil only helping when he sees fit."

"And that's why, you'll be taking him on your team and molding him to a superhero," Nick Fury said bluntly.

"What? I didn't even agree," he protested.

"Yes, you did," Nick Fury said without room for rebuttal. "He's joining the Avengers Academy tomorrow and since Wilson has been given other tasks, he'll be rooming with you."

"Okay," Harry sulked. "Anything else, sir?"

"You'll be cordial to Loki and tell him nothing of this meeting. Tell the others to do the same. We want Loki to be accepted, a step in steering him toward the good side," Nick Fury said.

Harry mocked saluting. "Your word is law, sir."

"You are dismissed," Nick Fury said. Harry stood up and hurried at the room. He wondered how he was going to break this his new team. He hoped no one decided to quit.

…

It was next Saturday and Harry was running late for the second team meeting. He hurried down the hallways only to bump into a person along the way. Both of them were sent sprawling to the linoleum floors.

Harry, dazed, was quick to grab the scattered papers and shove them to the person firing off a flimsy excuse, but he stopped when he noticed just who he had bumped into. "Kate," he said, trying to tone down his shock. "You're here."

She was dressed in jeans and a purple shirt, her dark hair was tied up loose ponytail. There were also dark bags under her eyes, but she was just as pretty as she'd always been.

"Harry?" she eased up. "I haven't seen you since… "

"The funeral, yeah," he nodded. It was still a sore spot for him months later; he could only imagine how Kate must feel. Her whole team dismantled and gone.

"So, what's got you in a hurry?" she asked with a small smile.

Harry was glad for the change of conversation. "I'm late," he chuckled. "Like usual, for my second team meeting."

Kate's face brightened at his words. "You went through Team Creation?" Harry nodded. Kate laughed, a sharp and happy sound. "I remember that. The auditions were hell!" she laughed again, her eyes glazed.

"Have you thought of a team name yet?" she asked suddenly.

Harry shook his head. "No, this was actually what the meeting was about, setting up aliases and whatnot."

"How about the Young Avengers?"

Harry's eyes widened at that. His heart thudded. "Are you sure?" he hesitantly asked. "It's only been a couple of months and I'm sure it's somethin—"

"Harry," Kate cut in. "It's what they would've wanted, for you to carry on our legacy, and to become something we never had the chance to be."

Harry was at loss. To pick up a moniker so soon after the death of its originator, Harry felt like he was dishonoring a memory, although, he knew to pick up a name of former superhero or team was common practice. Still.

Kate gathered the rest of the papers, when she finished, she bended down just the littlest bit to kiss him on the cheek. "Think about Harry, please," she whispered to him and then she was off. Back to whatever.

He didn't watch her go. He started to walk in his direction, to his team meeting. He wasn't going to make any promises but he would think about. Think about it a lot.


End file.
